


Control Clock

by Reverse Justice (56leon)



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Timeline, Daichi's Route, Demonic Possession, Hibiki is just kind of human but he's Special (tm), Kazuya is Abel is King of Bel, M/M, Multi, Naoya's Route, Personas are Demons, Reincarnation, but Demons aren't necessarily Personas, no spoilers for Break Record because it breaks fanfic continuity, or Alcor's Route it gets a little fuzzy, which is actually....semi-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:57:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/56leon/pseuds/Reverse%20Justice
Summary: The new student in Akira’s class is something of achuuni,but that’s not what makes him so strange. To the Phantom Thieves, Hibiki Kuze is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and while irritating, it’s not a particularly challenging hurdle to jump.However, things change when they discover a second layer underneath the Metaverse that, quite literally, should not exist. Combined with Hibiki’s increasingly strange behavior and the mysterious person known as Abel that everybody seems to be looking for, things might be taking a turn for the weird- and potentially world-breaking.[Spoilers forPersona 5, Devil Survivor: OverclockedandDevil Survivor 2.]





	Control Clock

**Author's Note:**

> almost-dead fandoms? in MY writing? it's more likely than you think.
> 
> anyways, i love abel and i love hibiki and the devil survivor fandom needs a DESPERATE REVIVAL.
> 
> (also, watch me scream about hibikazu on my twitter [@homosethsual](http://www.twitter.com/homosethual))

 

_“Is this good?”_

_Pale fingers slide along the edge of a wooden table, and their owner looks at his friend with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Red is a little hostile, you know. Maybe blue would work better?” He gestures at the red curtains and carpeting, accented with black in the appropriate areas. “Are you sure that you want to create a place like this, though? He might take it as a trap, or-”_

_“Hibiki.” He freezes before falling silent completely. Hibiki Kuze knows better than to test his friend, especially when his voice belongs not to Kazuya Minegishi the human, but Abel the King of Demons. “Trust me.”_

_Hibiki releases his breath - one he didn’t know he was holding - in a soft sigh. They’re equals, in theory at least, and yet the hold that Abel has over him makes him more nervous than any battle he’s ever been in. “I do,” he replies. “I’m just...scared.”_

_He doesn’t say what, exactly, he’s scared about, but Abel seems to see through him all the same. “It’s not your fault.”_

_“...thank you.” He still can’t believe it, but when Abel says those words, at least they’re a little easier to imagine as genuine. He toes the ground a bit, staring at a cup of tea left out on the table. It’s not real, and only exists to bring a bit of homeliness into the room, yet he can’t help but feel the need to drink its imaginary contents before it goes cold. “What about the others? Atsuro-san and Yuzu-san, especially, will probably want to remember you.”_

_“They’ll be there for you.” It’s obvious how Abel avoids making eye contact, but Hbiki says nothing; it’s not the time to doubt Abel’s decision, especially not when it’s hurting him this much. “Not me.”_

_That’s all the answer he’s given, but it’s just enough. As few words as Abel uses, they’re_ **_always_ ** _just enough. “I’ll miss you, too.”_

_“Good.” The corners of the demon king’s mouth upturn ever so slightly, and Hibiki smiles back, large enough for both of them. “Now go, it’s almost time.”_

_“Aye aye, milord.” A door appears behind Hibiki, burning as red as the rest of the room, and Hibiki turns to it, his hand going to the handle before hesitating briefly. “Thank you, Kazuya.”_

_There’s no response, just as Hibiki assumed, and he doesn’t wait for one. After all, there are worlds to fix, and he and Abel have forever._

_He and Kazuya have forever._

_Without another word, he turns the handle and steps through the door._

 

* * *

 

“Who’s weirder? The delinquent or the cosplayer?”

“Dude, shut up, they might hear you!”

Hibiki doesn’t hear them at all- or rather, he doesn’t care enough to focus on their words. There’s nothing to gain from being popular, not from his experience, and trying is futile when it works directly against his goal. Therefore, instead of replying to the whispers of him and the other transfer student - a boy from a small country town, supposedly a criminal from what Hibiki can tell from the rumors - he simply writes his name on the blackboard, bows, and sits down.

Maybe in another world, Hibiki would have a sense of humor, try to make friends and be as charismatic as he had before his own world had ended, but anxiety and fear gnaws at him, consuming his thoughts and nearly swaying him off of the path that he and Abel had set.

He and Abel, before he was left alone.

His fingers twitch against the wood of the desk, trying not to fiddle with the phone in his pocket. It’s touch screen, much fancier than the flip phone that he had owned in another life, but it still holds the same programs, and the same sentimental value, as before. And while it’s reassuring to know that his demons are still his, and that Alcor is still watching over him from somewhere else, he knows it won’t help. Not when the only other person watching over their goals was missing, nothing but a black cape left in a safe haven proof that he had ever even existed.

Hibiki resists the urge to put his face in his hands, not wanting to stand out more than he already has by blatantly not paying attention in class. Everything’s gone down the drain, and now it’s his job to fix it.

“Kuze-san, do you mind solving this problem on the board?”

Something of a dry laugh bubbles up his throat, and he pushes it back down. He can’t even solve his _own_ problems.

The classroom is deathly quiet, and he doesn’t realize until too late that he’s spoken his thoughts aloud. He flies to his feet, chair scraping against the wooden floor, and excuses himself; while not a good first impression to the class, his reputation is far from his mind as he walks out of the room. Years of experience, resetting timelines and praying for a better life, and the worst possible outcome is right at his fingertips.

He’s going to go mad.


End file.
